


Ugh. This asshole

by This_ape_writes



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy era relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Past Child Abuse, Realizing there might be more than friendship, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_ape_writes/pseuds/This_ape_writes
Summary: Bones is working a late shift at the clinic when Jim stumbles in.





	

It's late. 

Close to 11:30 I would guess, meaning I only have a little over an hour left in my, thus far very uneventful shift, when a voice calling my name startles me. 

"Leonard?" 

I snort. I recognize his voice without even looking up from my desk. I can count on one hand the amount of times I've heard him call me by my actual real first name and not his stupid nickname for me and I realize it's weird and off putting.

Still, I'm glad that he's decided to drop by. Not that I would ever admit that to him though, so of course I snap at him instead. 

"You're finally cutting the bullshit and dropping that dumb ass nickname you have for m..." but my words dry up and crumble when I turn and see the slumped figure of my best friend in the doorway of the clinic office. 

He looks terrible.

"Jesus," I mutter as I jump to my feet. Not that it's all that surprising to find him in such a state.

In the two years we have known each other Jim has been in six fights, one lab accident and one motorcycle crash in a spectacularly rapid sequence. It's to the point that I almost don't recognize him without a black eye. But all of his prior injuries have all been on par with skinned knees in comparison to the bloody broken man in my doorway now who winces when I go to touch him.

"Jesus," I mutter again, "how do I help you?" I ask when each attempt at helping him move further into the room is met with a grimace, clinched jaw, and a head shake. 

"Let me... I need to...I'll..." he says as he gestures to himself and then to my chest. I nod. 

"Ok. Ok..." I stand as close as I can with my arms braced for whatever they could be needed for when he grabs ahold of my forearm and drags himself into the room.

We walk. Small shuffling step by small shuffling step into the room and I let him sit in my desk chair. Not the most convenient positioning for me to do my job. The arm rests alone are really going to piss me off but it's close and low to the ground so it's fairly easy for him to drop into and to spite the obvious pain that he's in I see a tiny flicker of relaxing as he sits.

The second his fingers unwind from my arm I kick in to full repair mode. 

I also kick in to full angry friend mode as I start to snatch up everything I think I might need out of a nearby supply tower and I launch in on scolding him as I do.

"I can't beLIEVE you were fighting. What bar were you at this time?" I ask.

"I wasn't. I was at home. I have that huge paper due tomorrow you know that," he says. I frown. I slam several metal drawers shut and pull a nearby stool over with my foot. It rolls easily to his side and I sit as I begin running a scanner over him to take inventory of his injuries.

Cracked orbital bone. 

Eye contusion that has swollen his left eye completely shut. 

Laceration on his cheek that may heal on its own without intervention if we're lucky. 

I sigh. 

I don't know why I think he's lying to me but I do, until I get close enough to him to realize he doesn't smell like the alcohol I was expecting. He smells like sweat and the sharp scent of blood but when he huffs out a small breath it smells like...mint.

"You were at home?" I ask again, and he nods. My scanner beeps again. 

Too many bruises to count. 

Four cracked ribs on the left side. Tiny cracks but cracked all the same. 

"So how did this happen?" I ask.

I suddenly imagine burglars invading his dorm and him valiantly fighting them off and that image is both horrifying and impractical. He has nothing worth stealing. I don't even think his mattress has sheets.

"Her boyfriend came back," he says. And for a second I roll my eyes imagining the scene of him hooking up with some girl and getting caught in the rage filled crosshairs of a jealous boyfriend but then cold adrenaline rushes into my gut. That's not what happened. 

I know what he's saying. 

"Your neighbor..." I say. He nods again and winces when he tries to sit back. "Jesus. I told you to call the cops next time they got into it, not to jump in yourself like a damn superhero," I grumble but it doesn't come out of my mouth with much anger. I don't know that I wouldn't have done the same thing. 

 

"I did call the cops. As soon as they started yelling. But..." I watch as his eye that is staring at the floor by our feet goes unfocused and I lift my hand to rescan to see if he's got a concussion. It beeps to confirm that there is no concussion and he sighs out a shallow breath. 

"I remember that sound..." he says in a voice that makes my chest flair with fear. I lean back to get a better look at his face and I want to ask what that means but I really don't know that I want to hear the answer.

I know he's in physical pain as well as emotional and I want to fix it all. Broken bones heal pretty fast but emotions... 

My hand gets a mind of its own and before conscious thought can yell at me to stop, and yank me back, my thumb glides down the side of his face. He closes his one eyelid that still works and leans against me slightly which makes me glad my impulsing won out but this time my chest doesn't just flair with pain at his response it constricts as well. 

It burns. 

It tingles.

Like flames have been injected into my bloodstream. What the hell? I pull myself back into doctor mode to keep from drowning. I drop my hand from his face and I finish the rest of my scan. 

Three broken metacarpals.

Cracked radius. 

Bruising on ribs on the right side. 

My scanner beeps that it is done and I sigh. 

Ok now we fix. 

"Ok darlin' try not to move your hand. It got the worst of it. I'm going to stabilize it and start it in on healing the bones and then I'm going to see about your ribs." He doesn't look at me. He just nods. 

I roll away from him and gather up a few more supplies. I want to encourage him to keep telling me what happened but I don't want to press. We sit in silence for a few more minutes and then he catches my unspoken request anyway and sucks in a shallow breath so he can keep going.

"I hacked the door. By the time I overrode the code to get inside she'd..." he lets out a disgusted sound and shakes his head. "She was in the corner. He'd already..." he swallows. It's too much for him to describe but I don't need him to. "I don't really remember everything after that. I do remember the police finally showing up and pulling him away but by that time I was already on the ground being kicked. But she was safe. She is safe. She's safe. Right?" He asks. 

I open my mouth to reassure him but I don't know that I can.

"Did she talk to the police?" I ask.

"Yes. So did I. They took him in. I think she's pressing charges." I nod and roll back over to him. I rest my hand on his knee, confident he has zero injuries there and I squeeze. 

"Then yes she's safe," I say. "The police will make sure of that. Why didn't they take you in to the hospital?" I ask knowing I couldn't have let a man in his state just walk away. 

"They were distracted and I left. I couldn't let them take me to a hospital, Bones," he says. 

"You'd rather I got all the joy of patching you up," I grumble.

"I trust you," he says not taking my guilt bait. I sigh. That tingling in my chest is back. And now it's radiating down to my hand. I ignore it.

"Yeah well. You're lucky your injuries are all something I can handle. But how the hell did you get here?" I ask.

"I walked," he says. 

"You WALKED?" I yell. He lives clear across campus. I think back to how he could barely make it a few steps inside the room just now and I shake my head.

"You're gonna be the death of me," I grumble. "Ok deep breath or as deep as you can. Relax back. This is gonna hurt for a bit," I say as I very carefully lift up his hand and rest it against my own. I flick on the regenerator and I hate the way his entire body tenses up and I want nothing more than to stop but I can't.

It has to get worse before it gets better.

Instead I clench my jaw and I focus on being as precise and efficient as I can be so this can be over as fast as possible. 

Not that he's making it easy on me. His breathing takes on the shallow gasping of someone who is in horrible pain and when I finish up his hand and move in on his ribs it becomes more pronounced and finishes off in tiny pained noises that slip out of his clenched teeth. I let go of his now healing hand and I offer my hand to his uninjured one. I squeeze his fingers lightly to let him know it's okay to squeeze back and he does so with enthusiasm as I finish up with his cracked orbital bone. 

The regenerator finally beeps after what seems like several hours and I set it down and find my now free hand back against his face. 

"That was the worst of it okay?" I ask. He opens his good eye and takes a testing deep breath and nods. I offer him a tiny twitch of a smile and pull away from him. "I'm going to patch everything else up the old fashioned way. I don't want to take too much out of you," I say. "Then I want you to go home and try and get some sleep." 

"I don't want to go back to my dorm," he says flatly. 

"Yeah I know that. I meant my dorm,"I say in a tone that I hope projects how stupid that was to assume I'd send him back to his place all alone. 

"You're coming too?" He asks. 

"Eventually. I have another hour here on my shift but I'll meet up with you then," I say. I push back to him and drop my supplies on the nearby desk. I wrap his broken hand first so it stays immobilized while the bones finish setting and then I start in on the deeper cuts with steri strips to hold the skin together as he stays silent. I add ointment to his badly swollen eye to help ease that down when he clears his throat.

"I'll stay here until your shift is over," he states. 

"You don't have to do that I know you hate all places medical," I say with a chuckle.

"I'll stay," he says in a tiny voice and that makes my chest flair up again. God damn it. What is wrong with me. Every time this kid decides to open his mouth I am in literal pain.

"Fine," I concede, secretly grateful he is staying. I'm not quite ready to let him out of my sight yet. "But you're laying down and trying to rest. I'm not kidding about that regenerator. It takes a lot out of you," I say. A lopsided grin lights up his face. 

"Ok doc," he says and the tingling gets worse. Shit. And what now. Am I blushing? I turn away from him quickly before he can see my face and I start shoveling supplies back in the drawers. I don't even care if they are in the right spots I'll fix that later. I'm too damn distracted. I slam the final drawer shut with a spectacular bang and I jump to my feet. I walk over to his side and hold my arms out to him trying to project as much anger and irritation as I can to spite not really feeling those emotions at all. 

"Alright come on lets go," I snap. He reaches up to grab both of my arms and uses me as leverage to stand. I slide my arm around his back and help him a few feet over to the nearby exam bed. My heart is working harder than it should be for as little physical exertion as this is taking and I feel it pounding in my ears with soft thuds. God damn him. I help him lay down and I immediately pull back hoping distance might calm my stupid body down. I tug the hem of my scrub shirt back into place and I nod at him but he reaches out like a striking viper and grabs my arm.

"Stay?" he asks and I want to yell at him and tear myself away but I know I'm not going to. In fact I'm sitting in the office chair he has just vacated rolling right next to the bed before I can process that I'm doing it. But that doesn't stop me from pretending to be annoyed and I point at his face. 

"Fine but you're going to lay back. And if anyone comes in that needs help you're not going to keep me from doing my job," I say. He makes some weird erratic heart crossing gesture and holds up his hands innocently. 

"Of course," he says, but I can't help but feeling my face twitch when his lights up into a glowing smile. 

"You little shit," I grumble with no conviction as I settle in. I stand up to reach across to the desk with my fingertips and snatch up the paperwork I was finishing so I have something to preoccupy myself with before I sit back down by his side.

He rolls over toward me and I can feel him staring. 

I can't focus on my paperwork. It's a pretend distraction. I flip pages and try and look busy but it's futile. I sigh. 

Besides there's something I need to ask him. 

"Hey Jim," I say. "If you don't want to talk about it you can tell me to go to hell but what did you mean earlier when you said you remembered that sound. What sound?" I ask. I hear him take a deep breath and when I glance at him he is not looking at me. I sit up and turn toward him. "Hey forget it. Forget I asked," I jump in but he shakes his head.

"No the sound of someone else being punched is a very distinct sound. Even through a wall I know what that sounds like," he says. I'm not going to be able to work anymore tonight so drop my folder on the ground with a slaping sound and I lean over to rest my arms on the bed next to him. 

"From bar fights?" I ask, giving him my full attention. And he looks at me startled. I notice that both eyes are blinking at me now and the doctor in me reaches up to touch his swollen eye to see that it is already getting better. I drop my hand down when I'm satisfied with what I see and he shakes his head. 

"No I'm usually the one being hit in bar fights. When I'm the one that's being hit that sound is a very different one," he says with a sheepish grin. "No...my step dad was a piece of shit," he says. I feel myself pull back a little bit from that declaration and I've decided that this burning empathy in my chest is just going to be my natural state now. I'll just have to get used to it. 

"Your mom?" I breathe out and he shakes his head. 

"No he treated her like gold. My brother and I took turns," he admits. 

I reach out and grab his hand because I have to and he doesn't even look down at it. He just grabs my hand back. 

"How old were you?" I ask.

"The first time? Six, seven something like that." 

"Oh my god," I mutter. 

"The last time he hit me was on my fourteenth birthday. That one my mom was home to witness. She left him after that. I don't know what happened to him. I kinda hope he's dead," he mutters.

"He hit you for eight years without your mom knowing?" I ask in shock. He shrugs like it's no big deal. 

"She was gone a lot. And she wasn't very warm and fuzzy. I don't remember her ever hugging me or anything so I don't know that she got close enough physically to me to notice. And he had one of those nifty regenerators that he'd use on me if he thought she was coming home," he says, nodding his head over to the device on my desk. 

His hand that I'm holding starts to tremble and it clicks a little bit why he hates being treated for his injuries so much. I don't know what to say. I sit in silence staring at his hand when I begin to notice a shift in him. 

His breathing has sped up. He's moving around, shifting side to side and I glance at his face and see he is staring at the ceiling. He is blinking and gnawing at the inside of his lip and I jump to my feet. 

 

"Hey. Hey. What is it? Are you alright?" I ask. He closes his eyes and the grip he has on my hand makes both his hand and mine turn white. He nods rapidly which means no he's not alright and I don't think. I don't second guess. 

I pull the curtain closed around the bed to give the false sense of privacy and I climb onto the bed next to him. Not a practical move. This bed is tiny. It's not even really a bed. It's a glorified countertop really. But I don't give a shit. I wrap my arms around him and pull him against my chest tucking his head under my chin as I hold him as tight as I can without hurting him. 

"I'm so sorry," I mutter as I kiss the top of his head. "I shouldn't have brought it up," I say. He shakes his head and I hear him sniff which makes me hug him tighter. 

"It's not your fault I was already thinking about it. Shit I'm sorry. It was a long time ago I don't know why I'm reacting like this."

"Well I can think of a few things this evening that might have triggered this reaction," I snap. He chuckles. I know it's a defensive reaction on his part to laugh but it makes me smile. I shake my head. "It's alright," I say as I run one of my hands down the back of his head. "You're safe now," I say. He sighs and I feel him nod.

"God this is embarrassing," he mutters but he makes no move to pull away. 

"Shut up, you're fine," I say. "I'm not hurting you am I?" I ask. He shakes his head. 

"No. It's nice," he admits. His voice is quiet. If we hadn't have been in a large empty room I may not have heard him. I relax and let my thumb rub small circles into his shoulder blades and I think about being six years old and having to go through that.

I remember being six.

My childhood wasn't perfect. My family didn't have much money. I remember missing out on field trips and sports teams because we couldn't afford it but that was the extent of my hardships for the most part. Both of my parents fiercely loved me and they were both AROUND. And both of them were very freely affectionate. I remember my dad hugging me all the time. It embarrassed me at the time but god I was so lucky. 

And I know for a fact that it would have taken eight SECONDS for MY mother to notice if someone had hurt me even WITH a regenerator. 

Not eight years. 

It kinda makes me glad I've never had the pleasure to meet his mom. If that day ever comes I don't know that I can be civil. 

"You're being too nice to me," he says and I roll my eyes. 

"Shut up," I admonish with a gentle tone. 

"No I mean it I don't deserve to have you be as nice to me as you've been for the last two years. What the hell do you get out of it?" he asks.

"A sense of superiority," I say. And I'm relieved when he chuckles. "I'm glad you knew that was a joke. No. Kid. I don't think you understand how..." I sigh. "God you're gonna make me get all serious aren't you..." I mutter. 

"Please," he begs with a very strangled pleading tone and I shake my head. 

"Fine but you're never telling another living soul that I have a heart and as soon as I'm done talking I'm going back to being sarcastic and crusty and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me," I say. 

"Ok," he says. 

"Fuck. Kid. I love you so god damned much that my chest hurts. Really, I mean that. My whole chest has been killing me tonight every time you open your mouth. It even tingles down into my arms because I can't stand to see you hurt. I love you. I do. I love you too much and you go and do stupid things that scare me and it just makes me love you more because you're just this bright shining spot in the universe that drags me in. 

And it makes me want to scream at you because you can't see it when it's plain as day to the rest of us mortals but it's not like you'd listen to me anyway. 

Dammit kid...when I met you I wasn't in a good place." He reaches up to rub the back of his wrist under his nose with a sniff and he nods. 

"I know," he says. 

"Yeah well, but you don't know how bad it really was. You saved my life. You were there for me, mostly when I didn't want you to be, but you were there to keep me from collapsing in on myself and my life has been infinitely better with you in it. You gave me someone to live for. You helped me stay sober. You helped me stay focused. You helped me find ME again when I thought I was dead and gone. What do I get out of being around you? What the hell do you get out of being around ME? Besides free bandaids," I mutter. 

His fingers curl into my shirt and he shakes his head. 

"I love you too," he says. "My life is better with you in it too. This is without a doubt the best that my life has ever been. I'm happy. I don't know that I have ever been that before," he adds.

I think of the positive energy that rolls out of his every fiber of being on a day to day basis and wonder how it's possible that he is the way that he is. 

He's a god damned miracle.

I don't know what else to say. But he doesn't either. Instead we lay there in silence. My fingers lift through his hair in a way that lulls us both into relaxing. This was not exactly how I envisioned my day ending up. Not that I really regret any of it per se but I wasn't expecting to spill out my soul to my best friend in an empty clinic. 

Not that I can take it back now. 

Oh well.

I do my best to relax and just enjoy the moment and the next thing I'm aware of is the door to the clinic beeping and my replacement for the next shift walks in. I kiss the head that is still resting under my chin and untangle myself from him as I stand up and straighten out my scrubs.

I slide out from the curtain and I'm met with the newest doctor on our team. I think his name is Steve? 

"Patient?" he asks. The curtain pulls back and the weak still bruised form of my best friend sits up. The doctor glances over my shoulder and smiles. "Hi James," he says. 

"Hi Sven how are you," he asks. I throw an irritated glance over my shoulder. How does he remember EVERYONES name?! 

"Bar fight?" Sven asks. "Nope I was playing hero tonight," he says as he slides to his feet. I am immediately at his side helping him stand but he waves me off. "Stepped in to help my neighbor. You should see the other guy," he grins and I want to roll my eyes at his fake smug exterior as I gather up my things and start to throw them into my bag. 

"Jeez well good for you," Sven says as he flips through the tiny stack of admission charts that I've finished. 

"It should be a slow night," I say as I slip on my jacket. He nods. 

"Ok have a good one," he says. I drape my bag across my body and I turn to my friend to see how I can help but he's standing like there's nothing wrong with him and strides out of the door ahead of me. I quickly follow and the second the clinic door shuts behind us he curls in on himself with a wince.

I catch him and pull him against me to help him walk and I clench my teeth.

"You don't have to impress Sven," I mutter.

"Just get me home," he says. I nod. I'm grateful that the medical dorm is attached to the back side of the clinic building so we reach my front door in only a few minutes. Only two people pass us on the way but he attempts to straighten up and look normal with each one. He even goes so far as to toss in a flirting grin at each of them too and it makes me wish I'd drugged his ass and just carried him out of there.

I press my thumbprint into my door and it hisses open and then closed. I start to help him over to the second empty bed that has unofficially become his but he steers us over to mine instead and sits down on the edge of he mattress with a groan.

He knows I won't refuse him and I bend over with a put upon sigh as I help him take off his shoes. I straighten back up with a groan of having worked a 12 hour shift and I drop my bag and my jacket in one motion. 

I cross the room and grab a clean t shirt out of my drawer and toss it right into his face and he chuckles as he grabs it and starts to change. I toss my own scrubs in the laundry and figure a shower can wait. I feel everything hitting me and my energy goes from sorta there to gone before I can even kick off my shoes. 

I pull my own clean t shirt on over my head and I grunt as I wave at him to scoot over. 

He does so with great effort and I take pity on him and help before commanding the lights off and collapsing into my pillow. I feel him as he hesitates and then curls into my back and I don't know what the hell is wrong with me but I groan at my own stupidity and roll towards him as I pull him closer to me and settle my arms around him with him tucked in against my chest. 

"Wipe that look off your face this means nothing," I say. He laughs. An honest to god joyful laugh and it's healing to my ears. 

"It's pitch black in here! How do you know what look I have on my face?" he asks.

"Because I KNOW you," I say. "And I know you have your smug 'I win' face on and I don't like it." His fingers are tentative but they wrap themselves in a grip on my shirt and his forehead finds my collar bone. "Yes you do. You do like it," he says. And I take in a deep breath and settle in to my bed even more. 

This is the most comfortable this bed as ever been. I don't know that I'll ever be able to leave it. And I hate that he's right but he is. 

"Yeah well. If this gets out and ruins my reputation as an asshole you're in big trouble." 

"I won't tell a soul," he says. I feel him yawn and that sets me into my own yawn. I rest my cheek on the top of his head and I fall into the best nights sleep I've had in years. Thanks to this annoying little shit.


End file.
